


Don't Think I Don't Know

by orphan_account



Series: YOUTUBE RPF [4]
Category: Banana Bus Squad, Derp Crew RPF, Youtube RPF, youtube - Fandom
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Affairs, Aside from oblivious Daithi, Bryce is insane, Cheating, Daithi Is Innocent, Evan is an idiot, F/F, First update in a while lol, Hate Sex, Help, How Do I Tag, I Don't Even Know, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Multi, Office, Planted Cameras, Rape, Sarcastic Prick Marcel, Shit happens but idk mam, Spying, Theft, Torture, Tyler is the only nice one, Vomiting, Withholding Money, controlling relationship, i mean brock and brian are okay now, wtvr
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-05
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-08-19 07:52:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 14
Words: 14,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8196686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Jonathan Smith is a member of a vigilante agency and has a heavily locked and guarded laptop with sensitive information about the group hidden descretely in his house.Evan Fong is a member of an opposing mafia-like organization that has had a few of their people killed by said vigilante group, and Evan is sure of two things.One: Jonathan's last name can't possibly just be Smith.Two: He needs to get that laptop at any cost.





	1. Office Life | Wednesday

Tyler glaring at Marcel from across the breakroom was the first thing that Jonathan noticed.

"Bad day?" Tyler only responded with a low gutteral noise, and Jonathan decided he wouldn't question the man further. Marcel, on the other hand, was entirely unaware of the scathing look he was getting, and was simply standed in a corner in close proximity to Craig Thompson. They were talking about something in low, hushed voices, and appeared to be in a world of their own. Jonathan, suddenly realizing the situation, coughed loudly, finally drawing Craig's attention away.

"Jon! You finally crawled out of hell to come talk to us?"

"I... Guess you could say that?" Craig turned and whispered some unknown, final thing to Marcel, before skipping over to Tyler. Jonathan felt a pang of jealousy. The two were so close and clearly head over heels for each other, while his own love life looked more like a beer and whatever sugar filled cancer food he could get his hands on. His mind wavered a bit around Evan, but he shook his head, clearing his thoughts. Just seconds after doing so, Evan walked in, followed by Anthony. Anthony seemed to be talking about some sort of dairy thing that had to do with PETA, and how 'fuckin ridiculous' it was, so Evan more or less pushed him in the direction of Marcel, having more important things than the potential racism of milk on his mind. 

"Speak of the devil...", muttered Jonathan, who looked away as Evan got closer to him.

"What, were you talking about me?"

"Maybe. Why the fuck should you care?"

"Oo, getting defensive. We aren't trying to hide anything, are we Jon?"

"...No."

"You sure? You look-" Evan was abruptly cut off as Craig slapped Tyler, then, a few seconds later, started apologizing. No one was really sure what happened, but another set of seconds later, Tyler had this huge smirk on his face as he finally did the thing he'd been wanting to for a year and a half; kiss Craig Thompson straight on the lips like some disgusting love sick middle schooler. No one was quite sure how to react, but when Craig half-passed out to the point that Tyler had to carry him to the boss's office to request that they take him to the hospital, things were back to relatively normal. Evan was again staring at Jonathan with his intrusive eyes, and Jonathan felt a tad uneasy, so he attempted to get rid of tension.

"You uh... It's a nice... I think..."

"If you're trying to compliment me, you're failing miserably."

"I'm not trying to compliment you, bitch!"

"Harsh words. I'm genuinely hurt." Jonathan glared at the taller man before punching his shoulder lightly.

"I hate you."

"You love me."

"...No, I'm pretty sure I hate you." At that, Evan laughed, a simple noise that Jonathan was painfully aware he had fallen for. Still, he was attempting to cling to denial for as long as humanly possible, which, considering Evan's annoyingly persistent personality, might not be that long.

* * *

Evan was walking away from his car, down a sidewalk. Work had thankfully ended, and he was heading to his real job. Office life was nice, but it was just a cover job, something to hide what he did during the other hours of the day. His hands were stuffed in his usual red jacket, the white stripes still gleaming from where he had polished them. He took good care of his jacket, others felt like he took too much care, but Evan didn't much care for the opinions of others, especially when it came to his jacket. It was a gift from his late mother, so he cherished it with a passion, and had since her death four years ago.

 _Four years ago_ _,_ he thought.  _Four years ago, a year after I was initiated._ He still suspected that his mother's death might have had something to do with his involvement with his organization, but brushed it off. His organization called themselves simply that. An organization. It sounded good on the tongue without being suspicious, something necessary for their kind of  _'work'_. To put it simply, Evan was a member of the group that controlled the city, deeper than the law could go, deep to the grittiest parts. And there, as Evan- Vanoss- walked down the long, out of shape sidewalk, his mind was far away, back to his childhood home, back to a day and age where he didn't have those images of his mother on her knees, gagged and crying, in his head. Her face was dirty, her hair matted with blood- both dry and fresh. The image flashed in his brain for a moment then disappeared. He had told himself for years afterwards that it was not because of the organization, that it couldn't be. His train of thought was halted, however, as he bumped into a wall. Flushing with embarrassment, he backed up a few steps and saw that the wall was, in fact, a person. 

"Oh jeez! You scared me! Sorry, uhh...?"

"Daithi," the man said in a heavily Irish accent.

"Dahee?" Vanoss tilted his head, making sure he understood correctly.

"Yes. Daithi."

"Ah, okay. Well, sorry, Dahee."

"It is fine." Evan looked Daithi up and down and held back a sour expression, realizing he was new in the city.

"Are you, uh, new around the city?"

"Yes." Evan's nose twitched at the slurred, difficult to understand accent, and his eyes couldn't help but to narrow.

"So where are you from?"

"Ahhh... Country. More, aah, rural."

"Rural? Hmm. How long have you been living here?"

"Since... For a... two weeks. Just looking for a job."

"Interesting. Well, if you don't want to work in a factory or some shitty super market or gas station, there is an office building. Yeah, it is just answering calls and is boring as shit, but pays better than other places." Evan smiled weakly as the other man wandered away, seemingly forgetting to say goodbye. He shook his head, before looking up at the building in front of him. He pulled the door open, the cold metal of the bar used to open it betraying the season, Evan having nearly forgot that it was autumn, nearly winter, it being November twenty seventh. The entrance hallway was brightly lit, fluorescent lights lining the ceiling. However, as Evan continued, there were less lights on the ceilings and more doors on the walls, providing a feeling of mystery, an ambiance that the organization's leader felt was necessary. He had been messaged to come to the last door, a seemingly innocent message to outsiders, but stressful to Evan. The last door, the boss's door, was in the pitch black section of the hallway. There was a rumor that the boss was hard of vision because of spending so much time there, but Evan wasn't one to believe rumors. He was half-skipping down the hallway in an attempt to calm his nerves, but to no avail. As he paused in front of the door, there seemed to be a complete lack of heat, evident by his breath pooling in a frozen cloud of air in front of him. His dry hands brushed down the side of the door, searching for the handle, before grasping it firmly. His stomach turning with anxiety, he twisted the knob, the door opening with complete silence. He wasn't sure what to expect. Not very many people had seen the boss, forget talking. 

"Sit down." Evan was vaguely intrigued at the voice, it not being what he had expected. The door was shut behind him by a figure he couldn't see, and then, all of a sudden, a bright light flickered on above them, temporarily blinding Evan.

"I'll give you a moment," the voice spoke again, still calm and cool. Evan, his sight restored, blinked, then blinked again, before rubbing his eyes. The sight before him did not look like an infamous mob boss or mafia godfather, but more like an Instagram fuckboi. Evan's mouth opened slightly, and the man before him giggled.

"I'm not what you expected, I get it. I apologize if you're disappointed, Evan."

"Er, n-no, I just-"

"My name is Bryce, nice to meet you, finally." Bryce stuck his hand out, across the desk separating them. Evan, still taken aback, shook it lightly, his eyes wide. Bryce looked away, behind Evan.

"Brian, Brock. Why don't you treat our guest to some tea?" Before Evan could speak, Bryce turned to him, smiling.

"How many sugars do you like in your tea?" Evan, not being a regular tea drinker, stumbled over his words.

"I-I... Uh... S-Six?" Bryce raised an eyebrow, but made a hand motion, and the two men, apparently Brian and Brock, walked off to get tea. 

"So, Evan. Do you know why you're here?"

"Er, n-no, sir." Bryce's eyes sparkled with laughter.

"Sir is too formal. Call me Bryce."

"No, ...Bryce." Bryce nodded, his smile still eerily consistent.

"Your performance recently has been outstanding. Your ability to mold into the office life and become one with the other version of Evan is top notch and, frankly, I think it is time to head on over to stage two."

"What is-" Evan was cut off as an irritable looking man, either Brock or Brian, handed him tea. He took a sip and his nose wrinkled, it being too sweet for his taste.

"Wh-What is stage two?"

"Stage two, Evan, has to do with your 'friend' at the office, Jonathan." Evan tensed at that name, and he fought back the blood rushing to his face.

"What about him?"

"He is, as you probably were unaware of, a member of the group that was responsible for the death of one of our higher-ups recently." Evan's mind was clogged with information as he attempted to process what was being told to him.

"W-Wait... You mean that vigilante group that-"

"Yes, that could have been responsible for the death of your mother." Evan's world was slowing down, and he stared down into the tea, his face a tad scrunched up.

"In any case, Jonathan is in possession of the computer where they were storing all of said group's information, as well as other valuable information." Evan resigned his conflicting feelings away from the time being and sighed.

"...So what do I need to do?" Bryce's smile twitched and formed a grin, before he turned to the two men standing to his own right.

"I told you he'd be perfect."

 


	2. Paranoia | Thursday

Evan's head was spinning as he went to work the next day. He was told he had to plant cameras in Jonathan's house and had been twitchy all day, though, to be fair, he was concerned about things he might see. All of his mission instructions were told verbally, as writing them down would be too risky, according to Bryce. Evan felt his heart jump into his throat as his car approached the office building. It wasn't even time to start a mission and he was already having heart palpitations. Hands shaking, he parked the car in his usual spot, before turning it off, pulling the key out. He analyzed every moment, his eyes wide with a mixture of fear and a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He opened the glove box after a few minutes of simply sitting, and pulled out an orange plastic bottle with a white cap; a pill bottle. The label said 'fluoxetine', a word Evan still to that day had trouble pronouncing. The statement 'four years ago' echoed in his mind, and he stowed the bottle in his black uniform pants. The office uniform was plain, being just black pants, black shoes, white socks, a white dress shirt, and a black tie and vest. It was quite dressy, but most people in the office, especially during the colder months, wore a hoodie over it, the black one that was given to new employees and had the company logo on it; a white ring with a white phone silhouette in it, simple, but, as Evan had found, comfy. He preferred his red jacket, which was kept in his car for after work, but it wasn't allowed by company dress code, something he resented. Stepping out of the car, Evan shut the door and locked it behind him, before tucking his car keys in with his pills. He could have put it in his hoodie pocket, but he personally considered his pants pocket safer. The doors were large and impending as he walked towards them, and his hands clenched, having nothing much else to hold on to. Reaching one hand out, he pushed through to the inside. The first floor of the office was the usual: a desk lady- or, in this case, desk gentleman- with a pretty face, a few couches for visitors that never came, and the elevator next to the stairs. The man at the desk, Anthony, wasn't the one Evan had seen yesterday. This particular Anthony was a quirky Italian with a mischievous smile that was perfect for his role at the company. Around the company, there was a rumor that Anthony was smitten for Adam, but Evan had always dismissed it. However, Anthony didn't make eye contact with Evan as per norm. He was evidently distracted by a certain Mister Montoya leaning over the desk, giggling about something. Evan raised an eyebrow, finally taking the rumor into consideration, before continuing along, opting for the stairs instead of the usually crowded elevator. 

"Well then maybe you should eat a dick, bitch," was the first the Evan heard upon exiting the stairwell into his floor of the office, and couldn't help but to smile. He was met with the sight of Jonathan, arms crossed, glaring at a smirking Tyler.

"Hmm, maybe I already have, fucker."

"Bitch don't call me a fucker! I don't need your-" Evan coughed loudly to interrupt, before moving towards Jonathan, light on his feet.

"Arguing about something again, boys?"

"Yeah, this bitch-" Tyler cut Jonathan off by stepping on his foot, causing the other man to let out a strange noise that was a mixture of surprise, anger, and pain. Craig, who had just walked up with a coffee, nearly choked.

"The  _fuck_ was that!?" Jonathan whimpered, making a puppy face.

"Evaaan! Tyler and Craig are bullying me!"

"Aww, get your shit together, you big piss baby," commented a passing Marcel. Jonathan screeched, chasing after his friend. Evan shook his head, before turning to Craig. Craig handed him a small bottle of water with a sympathetic smile, as he did every day. Craig and Tyler, being two of Evan's closest friends at the office, outside of Jonathan, were aware of his issues with anxiety, and always tried to help when it came to that.

"Here's your water, my feathered friend." Evan snorted, the plastic snapping softly as he pulled the cap off.

"I see you have your Starbucks, you white trash bitch." Craig giggled, a sound that seemed to wipe the resting bitch face right off of Tyler. Evan pulled his pills out and took one out of the bottle, before putting it back in his pocket. He proceeded to swallow it then drink the water, the liquid burning his mouth with the memory of his mint toothpaste. Before anyone could say anything else, a grinning, red faced Adam popped his head in the door. 

"Get to work, fellas!" And, with that, he was gone. Due to his silly attitude, it was easy to forget that Adam was the boss. Fortunately for Evan and the rest, because their floor was high up, they didn't get checked on as much as the lower floors, so they were free to talk just as long as they got their work done. 

* * *

It seemed like he had hardly answered three calls before work was over. Evan had been so absorbed in his job that he had even forgotten to go to his break. Getting up from his chair, he stretched. Their floor was cold, so he had kept his hoodie on, but he was already ready to get back into his jacket. He turned around and nearly bumped into a concerned looking Marcel.

"Evan, you alright? Jon was worried about you. You didn't come to the break, or eat your lunch. You alright, man?" Evan nodded, flushing at his friend's caring gestures. 

"Y-Yeah, just caught up in my work today. Nothing much else... Sorry if I worried you!" Marcel paused, looking into Evan's eyes to see if he was lying, before nodding, a smile finally creeping onto his face.

"Well, I'm glad you're alright. Just don't worry Jon like that, he was actually pacing around and shit..."

"Sorry, sorry, I-"

"Nah, don't apologize to me, man, apologize to Jon!"

"I-I will later, I guess..." Marcel's eyes sparkled.

"Anyways, later!" Evan waved as his friend walked off, before he himself headed to the stairs. As he walked down, he was calm for the first time all day, reveling in the background noise of the office, each of the floors seemingly packing up as he walked by. Reaching the bottom floor, it was easy to miss Adam chatting with Anthony, but he was glad he didn't.

* * *

At home, Jonathan felt on edge. He was walking in circles around his coffee table, frowning. He knew he needed to go to sleep, but he had the unnerving idea that someone was watching him, something that frightened him to no end. Resigning himself, he stormed into his bedroom, and got under the covers as aggressively as possible, trying to force himself to sleep. In that moment, Evan was in his kitchen, softly planting minuscule cameras in unseen places. There was one in every room, aside from the bedroom, at every conceivable angle. He figured that he would have to settle for planting bedroom cameras later. His heart was pounding in his ears the whole time, and he felt as if they would burst at any moment, and Jonathan would just find him, in the hallway, having a stroke on the ground. He still wasn't sure as to why he had been picked for this particular job. Not only was he far too anxious to pull off stunts like this all the time, he had a personal connection to the case. Still, he figured that Bryce must have some reasoning behind it, and that he shouldn't question it. It just didn't seem logical.


	3. Turbulence | Friday

There were many things Jonathan expected as he woke up in the morning, but none of them occurred. Shaking his head, he told himself softly that he was just delusional, and that no one was watching him. He slipped out of bed before pulling off the boxer briefs he had slept in, exchanging them for another pair. He pulled his work uniform out of his closet and lazily changed, feeling exhausted now that the suspense of being watched was over. Putting his black hoodie on last, he let out a long sigh as he made his way to the bathroom. Brushing his teeth felt so mundane, but he did it anyways, then moving on to grab the lunch he had put together the night before. The lucky thing about the office was that you weren't required to bring anything in if you were in the department that Jonathan and Evan were, so after that, he left his home, fumbling with the keys he kept in his hoodie pocket. Getting into his car, he yawned, all of his movements rubber like, and slow. He just, for some reason, couldn't wake himself up, and it was starting to get on his nerves. Finally, things seemed to speed up as driving distracted his thoughts from the things itching at the back of his mind. Pulling up into the parking lot, he parked his small car next to Evan's, before hopping out. As he walked up to the building, he raised an eyebrow at the sight of a pissed off, smoking Tyler.

"Tsk tsk, Tyler! I'm sure Craig wouldn't approve," he giggled, before pausing as Tyler shot him a cold look.

"I'm aware, asshat." Jonathan let out a forced, awkward laugh, then headed inside, distancing himself from the man as quickly as possible. As he strode past the main desk, he noticed Adam leaning over it, and, grinning, he changed his direction, approaching. Getting closer, he heard snippets of something about meeting up, causing the gears in his brain to shift slowly. 

"So, lovebirds, how are you this fine Friday morning?" Adam jumped slightly, but quickly recovered, flashing his signature smile. Anthony, on the other hand, was red faced, staring down at his hands. 

"Well, Anthony and I are just planning for a... an  _excursion_ after work." Raising an eyebrow, Jonathan looked away from Adam to the flustered Anthony.

"An ' _excursion_ ', eh? Sounds suspicious." Adam responded with a high pitched laugh.

"Yes, yes, very suspicious! We might be dealing drugs!" At that, Anthony looked up and snapped at the older men.

" _Hey now._ I would never sell drugs and you know it!" Adam rolled his dark eyes, a soft smile finding its place on his face.

"If you thought you'd get enough money you would."

"...Well, that may be true, bUT-" After that, Jonathan started backing away, shaking his head softly, already planning to gossip with Marcel and Craig about what had happened. Skipping up to the door to the stairs, he pushed it open slowly, the weight causing his arms to strain.

 _The fuck? Why is this door so-_ Jonathan fell forwards as the weight moved away, crashing into the stairwell next to a terrified looking Evan.

"EVAN, WHY THE FUCK WERE YOU LEANING ON THE DOOR? IT OPENS INWARDS, ASSHOLE!" Outside, Anthony and Adam's conversation was momentarily halted as they peered at the stairwell door with wide eyes. Jonathan composed himself, glaring at Evan. Respectively, Evan was open mouthed, still a bit shaken up at Jonathan crashing through into his stairwell. After a few minutes of silence, Jonathan walked off, pretending to be angry, while Evan got a good look of the other man's ass. Swallowing awkwardly, his hand instinctively loosened his tie, his face flushing just a slight bit as he had to distract himself from dangerous thoughts. Walking up the stairs behind Jonathan, his hand gripped the railing tightly, his eyes focused on his feet. They turned seemingly a thousand corners, heading up, before they reached their floor. Letting go of the railing, Evan flinched, his hand red. Jonathan was holding the door for the other man, and his eyes narrowed at the other's strange actions, making a few mental notes. They were finally both inside of the office, only two minutes late. Jonathan immediately sprinted to his cubical, next to Craig's, a grin reappearing on his face. Evan walked to his own with a sigh, it being next to Tyler's. Tyler looked at Evan over the short half-wall separating them with a grim expression.

"Do you need something, Tyler," Evan asked, not even looking up, "because I don't think I have it." Tyler let out a noise similar to that of a snarl, before speaking.

"I don't need money, fucker, I just need..."

"...Yes?"

"Advice. I need advice."

"Psychologist Evan at your service," Evan commented sarcastically, logging into his desk's computer, "how can I help you?" Tyler replied with a scathing glare.

"I don't need your rude bullshit at the current moment. I just need you to tell me how to hide my whole smoking shit from Craig."

"You know... You shouldn't hide anything from your significant other. That's kinda rule numero uno." 

"You're one to talk." At that, Evan's eyes narrowed, and he looked away from his computer to focus in on Tyler.

"Listen, bitch, I'm not even dating anyone, and I have absolutely fuck all to hide. Don't play that card with me. And, if you need advice, why don't you ask Anthony?"

"Anthon-"

"Anthony as in Panda."

"Ah."

* * *

The day passed for Evan and Jonathan without anything else out of the ordinary, other than a bit of pretend anger directed at Evan for surprising Jonathan. As they both drove home, things were relatively normal. However, they stopped being relatively normal as Evan drove his car to a nondescript location near Jonathan's house and, getting out, started walking. He was wearing black jeans and his red coat, his gray t-shirt concealed underneath. On his back was a backpack, good for carrying things. As he neared his destination, Jonathan's house, he paused, sitting down on the sidewalk. Seeing that there was no one in sight, he pulled his backpack off before unzipping it, retrieving a tablet. On said tablet was a screen displaying the video feed from the cameras Evan had placed throughout Jonathan's living space. Zipping up the pack, he put it back on, and trekked the rest of the way to the house. He stopped outside, Slipping off the backpack once more and setting it down on the ground with the tablet, leaning against the house. Stepping quietly over to Jonathan's car which was parked on the street, he peered inside the window, and, locating the other man's hoodie, knew his car was unlocked. He opened the passenger's side car door and grabbed the hoodie, retrieving the keys he had found out, after monitoring the other's habits, were stashed in the pocket. He shut the door, keys in hand, and walked back over to his pack. He picked up the tablet and looked down at it. He nodded slowly, affirming Jonathan was about to get his nightly shower, as he had walked into the bathroom. Looking away, Evan unlocked the door and twisted the handle before pushing open to insure he was quiet. He shut the door behind himself, and looked back at the tablet. Eyes exacting, he trailed the other man. Evan blocked out a cloud of dirty thoughts as Jonathan stripped, telling himself that Jonathan was simply taking a shower, and that this was serious work. But Jonathan didn't get into the shower. He leaned his back onto the wall and flushed, at the perfect angle to be seen by the camera. Evan, in an attempt to be completely correct, had tapped on the bathroom camera a few minutes prior, so the image of Jonathan, bare, took up the whole screen. As Jonathan's eyes closed, and his own hand trailed to his waist, Evan felt his heart stop, and his mouth get oddly dry. Jonathan began stroking himself, his free hand in his hair as he hummed softly. Evan's eyes were glued on the screen, and he felt a hot kind of guilt pool up inside himself. Watching Jonathan like that was already nerve racking, but then Jonathan proceeded to whimper out Evan's name, his voice cracking. At that, Evan felt his pants tighten, and he hissed, gritting his teeth. After a few minutes of watching it play out agonizingly slow, Evan tore away his eyes, face burning with guilt and shame. He let himself forget what needed to be done and, tablet in hands, walked outside, replacing the keys, and, backpack in his free hand, sprinted the half mile back to his parked car.

 


	4. Take Two | Saturday

Saturday was difficult for everyone involved, but especially for Tyler. He had been ignoring his phone all day, opting to angrily eat a bowl of Cheerios over answering any texts from Craig. He had been trying to get off of smoking and stop other bad habits before he really committed to Craig, wanting the adorable guy to get the best version of him, but Craig's cute little face, tight fitting clothes, and relentless texting had made that difficult. He couldn't help his instincts the day he had kissed Craig, but now he had led the other man on when he himself wasn't fully ready, and was kicking himself for it, both figuratively and literally. Finally, after much internal fighting, he picked his phone up, against his better judgement. He had (47) texts from Craig, (6) from Evan, and (2) from Marcel. Sighing, he tapped on Evan's name, only to roll his eyes.

thirstyho: wake up idiot

thirstyho: mario cart b i t c h

thirstyho: Craig texted me like twenty times asking if you were dead or not

thirstyho: oh my god please message him he wont stop texting me

thirstyho: seriously tho I think he's gunna cry

thirstyho: h e l p

Tyler snorted before checking on Marcel.

Token Minority Friend: YOU MADE CRAIG CRY WHAT THE FUCK 

Token Minority Friend: TEXT HIM YOU BITCH ASS CUNT FACE

Tyler, mustering up every bit of courage he had, finally went to Craig's texts.

Cunt: Tyler heyyy

Cunt: you up for hanging out this weekend?

Cunt: ;)

Cunt: ugh sorry that was weird

Cunt: but seriously dude, evan finally bought a fuckin wiiu and was wondering if wed help set it up

Cunt: we could play Mario cart or shit

Cunt: do you like Mario cart? 

Cunt: sorry youre probably busy

Cunt: and when you get back you'll see all of my thousands of texts

Cunt: sh i t

Cunt: soooo

Cunt: sorry im bad at conversations

Cunt: hmm.

Cunt: are you mad at me? like, did i do something wrong?

Cunt: sorry

Cunt: ugh im so emo lol

Cunt: but seriously are you ignoring me?

Cunt: if you just told me what i did wrong i could try to fix it

Cunt: Evan texted me to ask if youre coming

Cunt: he wont text you directly idk

Cunt: what should i tell him?

Cunt: idk

Cunt: i dont really know what to say but i dont want to stop talking

Cunt: this isnt even a real convo tho

Cunt: ugh

Cunt: whatever marcel and evan tell you im not crying 

Cunt: im not a little bitch like that

Cunt: okay

Cunt: maybe i am but thats besides the point

Cunt: what if youre dead

Cunt: now im worried fuck

Cunt: i hope youre not dead bc i dont want the police to see what a whiny bitch i am 

Cunt: LMAO id probably get a text like

Cunt: 'i apologize but Tyler is dead you thirsty fuck'

Cunt: i hope youre not dead tho

Cunt: okay im NOT crying

Cunt: Marcel just hates me apparently

Cunt: this is so dumb

Cunt: im dumb

Cunt: youre dumb

Cunt: jk youre not dumb youre hot

Cunt: i feel high now wtf

Cunt: help?

Cunt: i should probably stop now

Cunt: but i cant so

Cunt: im actually worried tho are you ok?

Cunt: tyler please this is my last text and it is kinda long but please text me when you get this

Tyler couldn't help but smile, his resting bitch face gone momentarily. The smile faded, however, as he couldn't bring himself to text Craig, despite everything. Despite Craig pouring out his emotions and personality into the simple texts, Tyler couldn't do it. So he did the next best thing.

Tyler pressed the call button, and only had to wait through a millisecond of the first ring before Craig picked up.

"Holy f-fuck are you angry at me!? I thought you were dead oh my god it was terrifying never do that again, please, for the love of-" As Craig spilled out tears and words and meaningless mumbled phrases, Tyler found his smile again. He was beaming then, and his mouth was moving.

"Craig."

"...Y-Yes?"

"Yes."

"I... Yes what?" Craig, in his shitty apartment, sitting on his bed, surrounded by tissues, had his phone pressed close to his ear, his eyes wide.

"Yes, we can hang out today." Tyler bit his own lip as he waited for some form of response before, getting none, spoke again.

"Winky face." There was silence, then soft laughter that gradually got louder.

"D-Did you... Did you just say an emoticon? What the f-fuck?"

"Hey now, it isn't my fault you wouldn't respond. So, Evan's in five?"

"Y-Yeah, but- Oh my god, I'm still laughing... H-Hah, anyways, yeah, but he has to go to the store and other shit so it'll just be us for a bit. He said he left it unlocked."

"Ah, okay. Well, I'll seeya there, cunt?"

"I'll seeya there, bitch."

* * *

 

Evan was not, incidentally, at the store, but was, instead, again outside of Jonathan's house. After having studied him for a bit longer (aka: after going home, embarrassed, on Friday), he was waiting for Jonathan to take his afternoon nap. This occurred after the shower and eating, so Evan waited. And waited a bit more. Then a bit more. Finally, Jonathan was crawling onto his bed. Not wanting to waste any time, he entered the house, keys in hand, and stared at his tablet. He tapped his foot impatiently, waiting for Jonathan to get to sleep, but he was instead simply flitting about, doing something. After about ten minutes, he finally got back in bed, only to take his clothes off. Evan's eyes narrowed.

 _You've got to be kidding me._ Evan sighed dramatically as Jonathan started to finger himself, Evan face palming. By the time Jonathan was moaning Evan's name, Evan was already out the door, backpack on, tablet stowed away, heading back to his own car.

* * *

Irritable and turned on, Evan drove back home.

 _This isn't fucking fair. I refuse to jerk off to Jonathan. He is my enemy! This is so stupid..._ Approaching the door to his house, he stepped off of the sidewalk, onto the small concrete 'porch'. He opened it and, after walking into the living room, cringed.

"Really? In  _my_ living room? Fucking hell, boys." The sight before him was simple. Tyler was sitting on the couch, one hand tangled in Craig's hair, who was on his knees in front of the couch, blowing Tyler. Tyler only responded with a grin and a shaky voice.

"S-Sorry, man. Thought- fuck... Thought you'd b-be gone longer."

"You two are fucking heathens. I'm leaving, just text me when this place is no longer a danger zone," Evan commented, backing out. He found himself walking down the street when he paused, spinning around. Behind him was none other than the man he had bumped into a few days prior. 

"Oh, hello!" Evan's brow furrowed and he turned around, proceeding to walk faster, not particularly wanting to interact with the strange accented man. He pulled out his phone, however, when he noticed a text from Tyler.

assface: i saw that you racist bitch

Grumbling, Evan turned back again and flipped off his own house, gaining an odd stare from 'Dahee'. His phone vibrated again.

assface: i saw that too, fuck head

assface has changed your nickname to 'fuckhead'

assface: bitch

Evan's eyes narrowed.

You: oh wow that's a real improvement from... what, 'thirstyho'? I'm flattered

assface: stop being a dick and talk to him, craig knows him, i think his name is daithi? that or daithai i forget

assface: ah ok its daithi 

You: oh my god I feel like a fucking idiot I thought it was 'dahee' oh my fuck

assface: w o w

Evan shoved his phone into his pocket, eyes dark, before looking up at the unmoving Daithi.

"You alright there?"

"Uh, yeah, sorry for acting strange?"

"No, it is alright."

"So, you know Craig? Craig, uh Thompson?"

"Oh! Yes, he was my first friend here. He actually told me yesterday about this office thing that is accepting job offers, some sort of phone answering thing?" Evan didn't respond, his jaw setting.

"He said you work there too, so I look forward to-" Daithi noticed Evan was slowly backing away, before he bolted.

"H-Hey! Where are you going!?" Evan didn't respond, darting right into an alleyway. Panting for his breath, he turned to his left, only to come face to face with Daithi.

"HOLY SHIT!"

"Are you al-" Daithi was again cut off as Evan started running again, circling around and frantically clawing at his own house's doorknob, before collapsing inside. He was met with an odd stare from Tyler.

"Okay, first of all, what the fuck?" Evan, panting, got up, and sat on the couch next to Tyler, waving his hand dismissively. Just then, Craig popped out of the bathroom, his face and hair all cleaned up, and raised an eyebrow. 

"A-" Just then, Daithi strolled into the house, barely winded.

"Oh! Craig!" Craig smiled, nodding.

"Yep. So, boys, why is Evan looking like he was running from a murderer?" Evan looked from person to person, before sighing, shaking his head.

"Just... don't ask... So, Daithi, do you like Mario Cart?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bonus (bc i couldn't get this out of my head)  
> Evan: makin my way down town  
> Evan: walkin' fast  
> Daithi: Oh, hello!  
> Evan: walkin' faster


	5. Revelations | Saturday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya! Sorry for the inactivity, I've been in Canada on a vacation/study trip. So far it has been wonderful, but I finally found some free time to update. Hope you enjoy!

The four of them ended up only playing Mario Cart for fifteen minutes, opting to instead schedule to meet up on Sunday to play Garry's Mod games. Evan, prior to half shoving them out of his house, had called them all fuckboys, which Craig responded to by aggressively dabbing, more incentive to get them far away from his house. As Evan shut the door behind himself, he noticed he had a text from Jonathan. Groaning, he tapped on the name.

Bitch: You. Me. Rite aid parking lot. Now.

Evan's nose crinkled. He was apprehensive, considering, but left his house anyways to walk to the parking lot not too far from his house. Approaching it, there was no sight of Jonathan, until he strolled around from behind the Rite Aid with a nearly empty bottle of water in his hands. Evan shivered, noting that he had forgotten to put a coat on after settling back inside, and glared enviously at Jonathan's fluff lined blue hoodie.

"So. Why did you drag me all the way out here?" Jonathan, taking his time, crinkled the bottle, causing Evan to twitch. He finally responded.

"Hmm."

"I- ' _Hmm_ '? That's your fucking response!?" Jonathan grinned cheekily before speaking again.

"I did it on purpose, you know."

"What, annoy me with your dumbass personality?"

"No, bitch, I touched myself on camera while you were watching on purpose," Jonathan commented innocently, staring into Evan's eyes. Evan flushed and looked away, his hand instinctively rubbing the back of his neck.

"O-Oh, I-"

"Dunno why you want my laptop, but you sure as hell ain't gettin' it, that's for damn sure," Jonathan finished, pursing his lips. As he crinkled the bottle a few more times, Evan was visibly getting irritated, looking back at the other.

"Can you- Can you not!?" Jonathan, sticking out his tongue, crinkled it once more. Evan groaned, loo

"You're such a bitch sometimes."

"At least I'm not a fuckin' thief." Evan's eyes narrowed.

" _You little_ -" He cut off as Jonathan 'innocently' crinkled the bottle, and snapped, snatching the bottle out of the other's hand and throwing it, before turning back to him. Evan was hit with Jonathan's full on sad puppy face and his breath caught in his throat, his eyes glazing over at the sight of Jonathan's pouty lips, pale skin, and eyes so blue they looked unreal. Finding himself unable to move, he didn't pull away as Jonathan grabbed a fistful of the hair on the back of the other's head and roughly pushed their lips together. Evan felt stinging in his mouth as his lips crashed with teeth, but ignored it, his hands trailing to Jonathan's hips. It seemed to be hours before they were forced to pull away, gasping for breath. Evan's eyes were dark, quite different from Jonathan's own laughing baby blues.

"I fucking hate you."

"Aww, why don't you prove it, you big bitch?" Taking the question as a challenge, Evan picked Jonathan up roughly and carried him over one shoulder, heading back to his house. Yelping, Jonathan pounded his fists on Evan's back in protest, his upper half hanging upsidedown.

"Wh-Where are you taking me," Jonathan whined, distress in his voice.

"To my house," Evan growled plainly, and Jonathan, silent for a few minutes, was then satisfied, smiling again.

* * *

 

Brian hissed in pain he headed back to the building to report to Bryce, a makeshift wrap crafted from his t-shirt was wrapped around his left leg, above his knee, to soak up the blood seeping through his dark jeans. He opened the door as soon as he arrived, shivering, having only a leather jacket to cover his back. As he stumbled inside, a door opened and none other than Brock rushed out, grinning.

"Brian! You're ba- O-Oh my god, is your leg alright?"

"Yeah, my leg is fucking spiffy." Brock took a step back.

"I- Want me to get a medkit, or...?"

"Yes, but not at the moment. I still have to report to McQuaid."

"In this state? I think he wouldn't mind if-"

"Listen," Brian said sharply, putting a hand on Brock's shoulder. "I'll be fine for now. I promise. I'll go right to you after I'm done speaking with him." Brock fell silent, before nodding, moving aside to let Brian pass by, his eyes falling to the floor. Grinning slightly, Brian ruffled the other man's hair, causing him to blush slightly, before he continued on to Bryce's office. As he opened the door, he didn't sit down, simply walking up to the desk. It would be a quick meeting. Bryce didn't bother to turn on a light.

"So?"

"I found, ah... A name, what you requested. Not a real name of course, but his code name, something to call him."

"...And?"

"It, uh, is Ohmwrecker. His name is Ohmwrecker."

* * *

 

Back in the medical room, stocked with medicine, beds, and poison, Brock was pacing. Usually not one to worry, _usually_ , he found himself overwhelmed, hoping Brian would be alright. As the door clicked open and Brian grunted, stepping inside and closing the door, Brock's eyes lit up. Before Brian could so much as speak, Brock had him laying down on a hospital bed, jacket off, and was already busying himself by grabbing swabs, alcohol, and patches. Brian watched as the other man skipped back over and set the things on the small bedside table before blushing once more.

"Now, uh, I'm going to need to take your jeans off. Sorry if that's... Sorry." Brian chuckled.

"Ah, no worries. It's always nice to have someone trying to get into my pants." Ducking his head with embarrassment, Brock unwrapped the t-shirt, flinching at the copius amount of blood. His hands went to Brian's belt and undid it with a few quick motions before pulling it out. He proceeded to pull Brian's boots off after untying them, the shoes soon followed by Brian's jeans. Brock slipped on blue, plastic gloves and glared at Brian, daring him to make a prostate exam joke, but Brian was silent, staring at Brock. Flushing, he quickly turned away and got an eyeful of the gash in the other man's leg. Unable to see the wound through all the blood, both fresh and dry, he backed away before grabbing a small rag and taking it over to a nearby sink, wetting it.

"Nice ass," Brian commented, Brock's shoulders tensing in reaction. He skipped back over and cleaned the blood away, pausing as Brian inhaled sharply then continuing. Brock bit his own lip as he saw the extent of the gash, and retrieved the cotton swabs and alcohol to clean it. As he cleaned, he could sense Brian clenching his teeth to hold back noises of pain. After finishing up, he smiled, walking over to the patch bandage, patching up the wound.

"There! All better!" Brian's eyes glinted.

"You're not even going to kiss my booboo? _Heart broken_." Brock, surprising the other man, planted a kiss on the center of the patch, a small smile gracing his face. Brian took the opportunity, Brock, face near his thigh, and himself, only in his underwear, to make a comment.

" _Damn_ , Brock, you've got such pretty lips. They'd look even prettier wrapped around my-"


	6. Temperatures Adjusting | Saturday

Brian stumbled out of the medical room with one hand covering black eye, the other being used to brace himself against various walls as he made his way towards the exit. Brock was walking beside him, shaking his head.

"Sorry Brian, but you know my hand can't take a joke." Brian snorted.

"That's for damn sure..." Brock smiled sympathetically, handing him an ice pack wrapped in a paper towel which Brian immediately pressed to his eye, softly wincing at the sudden cold.

"So, what did McQuaid need ya' for? "

"Just, ah, something concerning that group that... Y'know. Scotty."

"Oh." Brock looked down at the mention of Scotty, his eyes softening.

"Yeah." They continued out of the building in silence, hearts a bit heavier. As they walked down the sidewalk, the two roommates felt it at the same time. It was a string of awkward feelings between them, and it irked Brian while scaring Brock.

"Hey." Brock looked over at the other, confused, but Brian only rewarded him with a smile.

"Yeah?"

"We're gunna be alright." At that, Brian intertwined his hand with Brock's, causing Brock's heart to leap. He responded only with an equally kind smile, and the both of them continued along, equal parts terrified, nervous, and.... Warm inside.

* * *

Bryce was stiff and unfeeling in his office as he mused over the name. He decided he liked it, an upsetting revelation as 'Ohmwrecker' was his intended enemy, not a close friend that he might consider getting coffee with. Still, he knew what had to be done just as soon as Evan retrieved the key item and He ruined Adam. 'He' was important, having control over Adam, a confirmed member of this Ohmwrecker's silly little gang. Bryce's slender fingers fell upon a wooden pencil and they turned it over as he thought. He knew Adam was playing a dangerous game with his fling.

 _He's married, for god's sake_ , Bryce thought, shaking his head.

_No matter, He will take care of little Adam._

* * *

Jonathan was set down, after a few minutes, on Evan's couch. Evan then skipped away into the kitchen for unknown reasons. Jonathan, disoriented, sat up and looked around.

"Er... Nice house?" A muffled thanks came from the kitchen and Jonathan got up, frowning.

"Huh." Evan walked out of the kitchen then, smiling.

"Yeah? Sorry, I was throwing a frozen pizza in the oven." Jonathan tilted his head.

"I thought... We were going to... Have-"

"Have sex? Nah, never on the first date," Evan explained bluntly, grinning.

"Huh. Well. Pizza is nice too, I guess." Jonathan sat back down on the couch, cross-legged, and Evan joined him after turning on the TV.

"So, Tyler, Craig, and their weird Irish friend helped me set up my WiiU."

"...Fuckin' basic bitch."

"Wow! It's like you don't even WANT pizza!" At that, Jonathan rolled his blues, looking away. Evan sighed.

"C'mon now, don't be like that..." Jonathan turned back and smirked, crawling on to Evan's lap. Evan turned red and felt his heart speed up.

"H-Hey now... I said n-not on the first da-ahh... F-Fuck," Evan slurred as Jonathan's uncaring lips found their way to his throat, sucking at the pliable skin there. After the mark was left, Jonathan pulled his lips away and looked at Evan, his sinful baby blues drowning Evan in a strange emotion. Jonathan's legs spread and he straddled the taller man, watching him stutter and try to remain calm.

"I-I don't think th-this is a good i-idea, I- J-Jesus Christ, Jon... Fuckin'..."

"Yes, Evan?" Jonathan's cold hands were all over Evan's body, and he felt frozen, unable to move. Hands were under his shirt and, despite his mind screaming at him, he fell under the water and let it happen, absorbed by the feelings and sensations. Next thing he knew, they were both shirtless, and Jonathan's eyes were imprinted in his head, ruining him. He looked down and saw Jonathan between his legs, his teasing, pale fingers pulling at his pants and his will, both falling easily, it seemed. Evan couldn't breathe, he felt, and his chest hurt, begging for air. Then, a few minutes later, he was blessed. Not with air, but with flowing heat throughout his body, coming from Jonathan's sinful mouth. Evan was gasping then, eyes wide as he cried out, not for air, but for Jonathan, a virus that had obscured all of his needs with a deep blue wave. He felt his hands tangled in Jonathan's hair, and he was trapped doing the very thing he had sworn not to do, though it had been ever present in the back of his mind. Jonathan would be humming brightly every time Evan let out noises, and Evan felt it happening, his body coming undone from Jonathan's touch. It started as a flash of white and ended with gentle cerulean engulfing him in guilt as he melted back into the couch. He kept his eyes closed, not wanting to see the face belonging to the baby blues that were burned onto the inside of his eyelids. There was a soft kiss planted on his lips.

"I hope you enjoy your frozen pizza, thief." After he heard the sound of the front door opening and shutting, Evan let himself open his eyes.

* * *

Max winced at the sharp sound of a pencil being snapped.

* * *

Anthony 'Chaos' was walking home in the frozen weather, but his heart was warm with  how Adam had made him feel. There was a silly grin on his face when he opened the door to his apartment complex and skipped up the stairs, his hair and clothes a mess. When he unlocked his apartment's door, his roommates Steven and Steven were there, glaring at him. As their names were the same, Anthony kept them straight by calling them by their nicknames spawned from their gamer tags, 'Ze' and 'Aphex'. He looked down at them guiltily and giggled.

"Anth. Were you out with Adam again," Ze queried, scowling.

"I-" Aphex interrupted him.

"You know we have bad feelings about him. He's bad news." Anthony groaned and pushed past them, into the small flat.

"Yeah, well you guys aren't my fucking parents, so fuck off." Ze sighed and looked at Aphex who returned the stare knowingly.

"Anth we-"

"Don't call me that."

"...Fine. _Anthony_ , we've seen him hanging around... People. Bad people." Anthony whirled around and pointed a finger accusingly at them.

"You two are probably just fucking jealous because you thought 'open relationship' only included both of you. Well fuck off, I can live my own life, got it?" Both Stevens were taken aback at his disparaging mention of their open polyamorous relationship. It didn't involve any sex, at the request of Ze and Anthony both, but involved caring, usually in the form of each Steven taking care of Anthony in equal measure.

"Anthony. We... We just care about you and don't want you to get caught up with people like that," Ze explained, Aphex nodding. Anthony glared at them then turned away once more, storming off to the other side of the small area they were renting.

* * *

A man and woman, both masked, were sitting in a room. There was some unspoken agreement between them as they sat, not making eye contact. The woman's brown hair, accented with bright purple, gleamed, though not in the same way her black sweater did, a large blood stain near the bottom. The man, on the other hand, was unscathed, his plain white mask with a neutral face clean.

"So?" Across the desk in front of them, a second man sat, an omega symbol on his respective mask.

"He... I'm afraid he knows your code name, however he is unaware of your true name," the man with the plain mask whispered in a gentle voice.

"I did, however, manage to leave a gash in his leg. He should be sore for quite a while," the woman added quickly, her sharp British accent tinted with nervousness.

"I suppose... This means we'll be meeting Mister McQuaid sooner than planned." The omega marked man sighed, resigned.

"Inform the others, please." The man and woman sitting there nodded and rushed off, leaving the omega masked man to contemplate his next move.


	7. Adam | Review

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter going behind the scenes to look at what Adam has been up to

Every day, when the ground floor of the office had emptied, Adam was there. He had Anthony wrapped around his finger, stuck like a ship at sea. Chaos ensued. Anthony was so vulnerable after being coddled by the Stevens, so when Adam stepped in with only a grin and a dominant stance, Anthony was already gone. Gone, pressed in between Adam and a wall. Gone, begging for release and finding none. Gone, so deep in the feelings that he was addicted and was forced to spend weekends with Adam.

Adam liked having control over others. He felt no guilt, only excitement, like some kind of twisted adrenaline junkie. He was greedy. He had one, married them, and yet he still wanted more. So Adam was there, every thing Anthony could have hoped for, and yet Adam was always cutting things short, giving him just below what he needed. 

To say it affected Anthony was an understatement. He was ensnared and constantly found himself searching for anything to make him feel that good, but couldn't. Anthony had been a virgin, too innocent, before Adam stepped in. Adam was very aware, and loved it, because Anthony was only screaming for him, only melting for him, and only digging his nails so deep into his back that they'd leave scars for him.

Adam was a bit cruel. To say that the time he struck Anthony over a weekend at Adam's home, when Anthony wanted Adam to wait until he was ready, was an accident would be to lie. Adam knew full well what he was doing, and loved the look on Anthony's face; shocked, hurt, and, in some sick, twisted way, turned on. They were more rough after that, and Anthony was painfully introduced to Adam's teeth on Saturday. When Adam allowed Anthony to leave, he had, for the first time, let Anthony have release. 

And Anthony was in love. 

Max was not. 

Max was angry, and Adam was very aware. It was a dangerous game. Max knew about Adam's fling, but Anthony was ever unaware of Adam's husband. He intended to do something about it.

So Max walked into an unmarked building, knocked on an unmarked door, then proceeded to ask the 'local mafia' to help. As it turned out, Adam had been hiding more than an afair from him. Max made an agreement with the strange man, Bryce McQuaid, and was on his way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yeah, by the way, feel free to leave comments. I love getting them, and I'll respond to them ASAP  
> Anyways, thank you for your support!


	8. Implosions | Sunday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look at Bryce McQuaid's slightly insane self destructive personality, as well as the others.

Bryce considered himself quite intelligent. He loved seeing actions and reactions, causing him to give out information only where he thought it necessary. For example, he didn't think Evan needed to know that his mother was alive and well-physically well, at least-, that Adam was never to be trusted, and that Tyler and Craig's lives were in danger. He only knew what was needed, nothing less, nothing more.

He found himself often bored, so he busied himself with the internet. It was idiotic, he was aware, but he often joined anonymous roleplay chatrooms. He knew he was far too old, but it doubled as help for his writing skills, so he persisted. He was secretive about it, and not even Brock or Brian knew.

So, as he sat in his scarlet upholstered chair, he smirked. He knew it was dangerous to give information sparingly, but he loved it. Danger made his skin tingle in an odd way, so he tried to make things as difficult for himself as possible, wanting to prove he could still accomplish his goals.

As Bryce stared at his computer, he found himself checking one of the cameras he had stationed in an abandoned building, smiling as he viewed Tyler and Craig.

* * *

Tyler walked through the rubble of brick and plaster, entering the horrible looking structure through a hole where there had once been a door. Clearing away some of the dust and paint coating the floor like fresh snowfall, he was met with a burnt wooden floor. He sat down, and invited Craig to sit as well.

Craig was terrified. He was one for adventure, but this building spelled trouble. He opted to sit in Tyler's lap over anything the bare floor offered. Tyler smirked, and kissed the other's neck softly before speaking.

"Isn't it cool? There are a bunch of buildings like this all over, practically up for grabs?"

"I'm n-not sure if 'cool' is the word I would use."

"Aww, c'mon, you have to admit that it is at least a little cool."

"No, I'll p-pass... I mean, its  _cold_ , but that doesn't seem to be what you meant." Tyler laughed happily and wrapped his arms around Craig, blissfully unaware of the sniper rifle aiming directly at his boyfriend's head.

* * *

 Max was waiting patiently by the inside of the front door of his and Adam's house. He had  _borrowed_ Adam's phone out of his work hoodie without telling him before sending him off to the store. Adam, usually very protective of his phone, had not noticed the phone missing from its usual snug place in the hoodie's pocket. With it, Max had texted Anthony, inviting him over in what Max hoped was a casual yet playful manor. Evidently, Anthony hadn't noticed a difference, and agreed to come over immediately. Max blinked, looking at the text, and a grin spread across his face as he let the phone drop from his hands and walked over to the dinner table, gingerly picking up his pistol.

* * *

Ryan was sitting cross-legged on the floor in the corner of his office, quite unprofessionally, with his laptop on his lap, in its rightful place. A sickly sweet smile on his pale lips, he was typing rapidly, replying to the roleplay he was engaged in.

0M3G4: The masked man jumped to the next roof, eyes closed, before spinning around, smiling in encouragement to the other man. "Don't beat yourself up. Not everyone is as perfect as me."

He held back a giggle at how immature it was to roleplay, but couldn't deny he loved it. There were around five to six others that were regulars, and three to four people that only came on occasionally. However, most of them were asshats, Ryan had decided, and only one of them understood his sense of humor. And, at the moment, they were the only two in the chatroom.

living trash: He snorted but felt a bit better after seeing the other man's smile. Steeling his courage, he took a few paces back before sprinting, jumping to the other roof, nearly knocking into the masked man. "I-I... I did it! Thank you, really!" He suddenly hugged the other tightly, genuinely thankful for the lessons he had been getting in self defense.

0M3G4: "Aha... Don't get too mushy on me, man..." After a few seconds, the masked man hugged back awkwardly prior to pulling away, face slightly red. 

living trash: "Oh, uh, sorry... Anyways, is that it for today, sir?"

0M3G4: The masked man ducked his head in embarrassment at the word 'sir', looking away. "Er, yes, I suppose. I'm not very professional, as you might have gathered."

living trash: "That's alright, sir, the fact that you're teaching me is enough!" He turned, looking out on the city. "The view from here is... wow."

0M3G4: Sighing, he turned as well, and was able to get a smile onto his face. "Yeah, yeah it is. Makes ya' think."

living trash: He turned, looking at the other intensely. "What do think about, sir?"

0M3G4: His face flushed and he glanced at the other, meeting their bright greenish-gray gaze. "I... I think about, uh..."

living trash: He tilted his head, his dirty blonde hair framing his face with a look of confusion. "Are you alright, sir?" He let his tongue slip, putting emphasis on the 'sir'.

0M3G4: He turned even redder and looked away quickly. "Yeah, yeah, just kinda zoned out."

living trash: He smirked, and looked away as well, making a mental note to call the other man 'sir' more often.

Ryan paused for a moment and groaned out loud in embarrassment. His face was red in real life, and he couldn't believe that a simple roleplay was doing this. His computer let out a strange beep and he looked up, eyes widening ever so slightly as he recognized that he had gotten a PM image from the other. Clicking on it, his face turned a darker shade, and he found himself thinking things he knew he shouldn't. The picture was of a man- probably in his twenties- with dirty blonde hair and bright greenish-gray eyes. He was wearing a loose fitting blue t-shirt that was hanging off of one shoulder, and his pouty lips were being graced with a devilish smirk. At the bottom was a simple caption that caused Ryan's breath to catch in his throat.  __

living trash: _Hey there, sir. ;)_

* * *

Adam's eyes narrowed as he stood in the store parking lot, just about to walk inside. His hands fumbled in his pocket, yet no phone was found. His heart was beating faster, and he turned around, racing home, only one thing on his mind.

The Anthony in question had his hand on a doorknob, a blush already spread across his face as he turned it. When he opened it and was met with the sight of a gun and not Adam's smile, he panicked. The door was shut, a hand clamped over Anthony's mouth, and he was shoved up against the wall, met with a face of pure anger. When the hand was lifted, Anthony gasped for air, wincing at the feeling of a gun being pressed to the soft flesh of the underside of his jaw.

"Who a-are you?" The man holding the gun let out a laugh so deep that it felt like a base drum setting the beat to a song that would probably be over soon.

"Who am I? Who am  _I_ _!?_  I am Adam's husband! The real question,  _friend,_  is who are you?" Anthony's heart fell into his stomach and dissolved in the acid held there, his eyes welling up.

"Wh-What?" The man pinning him against the wall faltered.

"He... Didn't tell you, did he?" Anthony shook his head, hot tears threatening to stream down his face.

"Hmm. You could be lying. Either way, I don't have a choice anymore."

"What d-does that mean?"

"It means th-" Max was cut off as the door slammed open, revealing Adam. Anthony finally broke, and tears were pouring out of his eyes. Adam smiled warmly, a hint of murder in his eyes.

"Hello, dear. And Max." Max's eyes narrowed, his finger falling to the trigger of the gun.

"Come now, put down the gun, Max." As Max refused to respond, Anthony finally understood his life was in the balance and started shaking. Adam finally gave in.

"Actually, do it. I was getting bored of him anyways." Adam pulled off his hoodie and sat down on the couch, grabbing the remote. Max growled, a terrifying noise, so angry that Adam had so little love for his toys.  He moved the gun down before firing, shooting him non-fatally in the shoulder, but it was far too late. Anthony was already gone.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uh, yeah! I hope you all are excited for the Brohm, and I promise there will be more about Daithi, Evan, Jonathan, Marcel, and hopefully a few new characters in the next chapter. Thanks for your continued support! <3


	9. ER Daydreams | Sunday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Filling in the gaps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad all of you are liking the story. Remember that you can always leave a comment with suggestions or anything, and I'll always try my best to reply. Sorry that updates haven't been consistent, but I have been extremely busy with English and Literature recently, and I hope you all understand. Thank you for your continued support!

Bryce couldn't help but smirk as '0M3G4' responded with several misspellings, clearly very flustered. He noted that 0M3G4 didn't know who he was, and sighed with relief.

0M3G4: well fuck

0M3G4: I mean not that i woudl

0M3G4: sfhit sorry im 

living trash: You alright? 

0M3G4: YEP

0M3G4: Im jsut uh drunk yeah

living trash: does 'drunk' mean that you'd want to do bad things to me~?

0M3G4: I AM NOT SURE WHAT EXACTLY YOU ARE ASKING SO I'M GOING TO HAVE TO ANSWER AT A L A T E R DATE

living trash: hmm. will you at least send me a picture of you? 

0M3G4: fuck you I'm not as brave

living trash: aww. Please?

0M3G4: ...

0M3G4: Fine.

Ryan groaned again, and couldn't believe it as he took off his mask slowly. If he kept the mask on, this other person would probably know him, but only his parents had ever seen his face, so there he was, taking his mask off and taking a picture of himself. He had forgotten, but he realized how strange he looked without his mask, just a guy in a suit and bunny ears. 

0M3G4 sent a picture.

living trash: Aww! Y-

living trash: wait are you wearing a suit?

0M3G4: y e s?

living trash: oh fuck one sec

Bryce looked away from his computer, trying not to stare at the dark hazel eyes hidden in that face with an expression that could kill. The bunny ears were an innocent touch, but the suit said otherwise. Just a black coat and a black tie against a white dress shirt, and he was done. Bryce had said 'sir' jokingly, but as the blush spread across his face, he took it into real consideration.

living trash: hey... 0m3g4...

0M3G4: Yes?

living trash: do you have skype?

* * *

 Brian's resting bitch face and perfect hair hid his excitement well. He was sitting across from Brock in a resturaunt booth, and, as the two conversed, it was easy to forget what they did for a living. Brock's easygoing face had a warm smile and he laughed about something that Brian had said. All of the small, seemingly insignificant movements were being watched by 02, who was currently debating whether or not going through with her plan would get her enough recognition to become 01, the purple streak in her hair hidden by her jacket's hood.

* * *

Tyler made a decision that changed his life forever, which was, after a few minutes of being all talk, finally properly kissing Craig while they sat there in the building, pressed together. He pulled him forward, to the side slightly, and there was a sharp flash in Craig's vision as he felt something graze the side of his head, scoring a mark all arcoss it. There was blood, so much of it, and Craig wasn't screaming, but had passed out from shock, a horrible look on his face. Tyler's instincts kicked in, and he picked Craig up, carrying him over one shoulder. He proceeded to run to the closest house that had people he knew.

* * *

Max and Adam had carried Anthony out to the street and left him there, dialing 911 and giving the street name. Adam was smiling.

Max was not.

* * *

Evan, tired of waiting for Craig and Tyler, called Tyler expectantly, only to have no one pick up. Aggravated, he stopped trying, and sighed, standing up. Running his hands through his hair, Evan was groaning, so frustrated and unsure of what to do with himself. Knowing that at least one friend was free, he called Marcel.

Marcel picked up and started yelling immediately. 

"Dude, calm the fuck down! What the fuck is going on?"

"H-Holy shit dude, Craig got fucking shot in the FUCKING head and Tyler just brought him here. It isn't that bad but oh fuck."

"Oh my god, is he okay? Did you call the police!?"

"Yes and yes, they are coming soon. Fucking shit though, Evan. Tyler is crying a-and... Fuck..."

"Well, I'll let you go, but text me as soon as Craig is in the hospital, alright?"

"O-Okay..."

* * *

Anthony was aware of two things. The pain in his shoulder, and the cold of the sidewalk. He had been left there, Craig having been prioritized. He could barely breathe or stand, not used to such intense pain. He called out for Steven, not caring which one, but no one came for him. He could feel his blood draining, but none of it mattered because he was already gone.


	10. IMPORTANT UPDATE

Hey! 

Okay, here is the thing.

1: Sorry for the infrequent updates and odd update times!

2:  Again, thank you for the constant feedback and feel free to leave comments!

Now, to the main thing.

I have been writing this for a little less than a month, I think, and, for some characters, I already have stories planned out. 

However, for others, not so much.

So, it would be absolutely wonderful if all of you readers left comments on this chapter.

This will majorly effect the future of this fanfiction, so it would be great if a lot of you could pitch in!

Basically, I have a few questions that I need answered.

First Question: Would any of you want to see smut in this fanfiction? I'm aware there have been small snippets, but would you like to see more? As you may have noticed, I'm not as experienced with it, but I do like to write things I normally wouldn't, so it is entirely up to you.

Second Question: What are your opinions on major character death? I'm not very good with deaths because I get attached to characters, but, like I said, I love trying new things. So, do you want deaths, or not?

Third Question: Do you think the current number of characters in the story is alright, or would you like to see more? If more, do you have specific characters in mind?

Fourth Question: What suggestions do you have for the plot of this story? You can leave answers about the entire plot, or just particular characters. Any answers, no matter how strange, will be taken into consideration.

Fifth Question: Would you like to see more violence, and, if so, how graphic are you okay with?

If you have any other things you'd like to tell me that I didn't specifically mention here, feel free. I'm only writing this because I want everyone to enjoy this story! I would absolutely love feedback! 

Even after I write a proper chapter after this, you are still allowed to comment on this! I will always reply to comments as best as I can, and will reply to every comment. All comments and suggestions will be taken into real consideration, and thank you for your continued support!

 


	11. Pressure | Sunday

It was difficult for Craig to breathe. Not because of his scratch or because of shock, but because of how tightly Tyler was holding him. The usually stonefaced or silly man looked about to break, furious tears gracing his eyes.

"Ty, you might wanna... J-Jesus..." Wheezing, Craig attempted to pull away, only to have Tyler squeeze him more tightly.

"I'm going to fuck you so hard when we get back to my place," muttered Tyler, and Craig turned bright red as Marcel, just then walking into the living room, snorted. The lovebirds seperated and sat normally on the couch and the grinning Marcel handed them each a bottle of water.

"Tyler, keep it in your pants or I'll be forced to kick you out!" Tyler glared at his friend but said nothing. Marcel started to smirk, but the expression slipped from his face as he looked up at the front window, an ambulance pulling up quickly, alarm blaring.

"Ah, there's your ride, Craig." Marcel's throat felt dry when he spoke.

"Y-Yeah." Craig's eyes were filled with fear, and Tyler's expression fell. 

"I..." Tyler hesitated with his words.

"I'll come see you as soon as they let me, Craig. I promise." Craig nodded in response and Marcel helped him outside. After coming back in, the ambulance driving away, Marcel shook his head.

"It isn't too bad, Tyler. Just some stitches and pain medicine should be all." Tyler looked down, expression cold.

"Yeah, I know. I just... I have a bad feeling. I don't want to talk about it."

* * *

 

02's unblinking stare was trained on the chatting men. On one hand, the man with the constant smirk and huge ego was getting on her nerves, but the other seemed almost too nice, as if it was a charade. Eyes narrowing, her finger slipped to the trigger. It had taken too long to plan this, but it was her chance to get promoted to the spot that no one else had taken. Heart skipping a beat, she pulled the trigger. 

* * *

 Bryce felt his heart pounding as he disconnected from the chat and opened up Skype, already being called by this '0m3g4'. He accepted and was met with the bunny eared man. There was an awkward smile on his face, and Bryce just blushed, entranced with the man.

"D-Damn... I still can't get over your goddamn outfit..." Ryan raised an eyebrow, laughing.

"Is that so?" Bryce nodded sheepishly.

"Yeah, ...What should I call you?" Ryan felt a burst of confidence and his demeanor shifted.

"You'll call me Sir." Bryce looked away from the webcam, covering his face with one hand.

"F-Fuck..." Ryan smirked at this, and continued speaking.

"Something wrong?"

"No... No, S-Sir!" Bryce said, quickly correcting his mistake, looking back at his computer.

"Good. Now, I have to go, but trust me, we'll talk again soon." All Bryce was left with was a wink before the call ended, leaving his heart pounding and palms sweaty. He'd never experienced the feeling before, and made a mental note to ask Brian or Brock what it was.

* * *

 Adam was still sitting on the couch when Max, snatching the remote, turned off the TV. Adam shot him a look with pursed lips.

"Rude?" Max's eyes flared up and he grabbed Adam's wrists, pulling him off of the couch and pinning him up against the wall.

"You're a fucking bitch, you know that?" Adam yawned, rolling his eyes.

"Boring. Shut the hell up and fuck me." Max's face contorted with rage and he hissed.

"Sooooo?" Adam's eyes sparkled as he continued. Max gave a two word response.

"...Fuck you." 

"That's what I've been trying to get you to do, dear~!" Max fell silent but, after a few seconds, gave in, dragging Adam into their bedroom.

* * *

 Anthony's eyes opened and he felt numb all over, but mostly on the left side of his body. Testing his mouth. The movements were clumsy and awkward. After several minutes of looking like an idiot, he felt his mouth start to come back to life. His vision was fuzzy, but he could make out the shapes of people entering the room he was in. They asked him questions, but they all sounded too far away, and he said the only thing on his mind before falling unconscious once more.

_"Adam..."_

* * *

Brian knew what it felt like to get shot through the ribs, killing him. He had never experienced it before, but as glass shattered and he heard the thud of that exact thing happening to Brock, his world stopped. The pain started in his throat as he struggled to swallow, then bubbled up into his eyes in the form of uncontrollable crying. From there, it hit all of his muscles, rendering them useless. Then, finally, it shot into his chest, like a bullet. It clenched up everything, and his heart ached. There was ringing and blood, and the next thing Brian knew, he was vomiting on the floor as his closest friend in the entire world's dead body was dragged away.


	12. Repercussions | Sunday

Brian stumbled along the sidewalk, his feet feeling as if weights were strapped to them. His brain was buzzing, unable to function. His numb hand wrapped around a startlingly cold doorknob and twisted.

* * *

Anthony's vision cleared up, getting pushed back into consciousness, and he blinked, body sore and weak. 

"Hey buddy, ya' there ? Anthony?" He looked towards the voice and recognized the faces of the Stevens. One Steven, Ze, was the one speaking, leaned over the hospital bed, while the other was a bit away, looking out the window at the parking lot.

"Mmmph... Yes..."

* * *

Adam didn't mind being on his knees in front of Max, the other man's hand gracing the back of his head with pressure. He knew that, at least for a bit, he was off the hook, even if his tastebuds argued otherwise.

* * *

Bryce looked up, having moved to sit at his desk, locking eyes with Brian in the dim room lit only by the sparse light from Bryce's laptop.

"Could I ask you a question, Brian?"

"...Shoot." Bryce smiled absentmindedly.

"What does it mean if you feel something warm and tingly in your heart whenever you talk to someone?" Brian's throat nearly closed as he let out a choked sob, brow furrowing. After regaining his composure, he shakily answered.

"It means... It means that you love someone very much, and... And you should tell them, before its too late."

* * *

Marcel and Tyler sat in awkward silence for a bit before Tyler frowned, standing up.

"I have to follow the ambulance." Marcel shrugged but Tyler barely noticed, already booking it out the door. He was running down the street in Craig's direction; the ambulance shouldn't have gotten too far with the horrendous traffic. He stopped short, however, as he saw the back end of a famiar looking ambulance smashed into a pile up of cars all stemming from a series of explosion. Tyler's eyes widened with fear as Marcel joined him, running after hearing the first explosion, just in time to see a man in a boring mask sprint from the scene into a back alley.


	13. Afternoons | Sunday

Tyler's voice started breaking as he screamed, unable to be heard over the cacophony of sirens wailing, people crying, and small explosions still happening. He fell to his knees and Marcel rushed over, expression concerned.

"Ty-Tyler. That wasn't the same... It couldn't have been. Craig left so long ago, I can't believe that it..." Tyler's face scrunched up as he stood, dragging Marcel back towards the other's house.

"C'mon, fuck face. Let's get inside before the police get here."

* * *

Anthony's hospital stay had been shortened the same day, having been pushed aside due to some sort of catastrophe on wheels. The Stevens hugged him, barely letting go of him as the made their way back to their apartment, avoiding the dangerous areas. As the pushed inside their flat, Aphex marched away, into the open kitchen, scowling. Ze smiled sympathetically and, standing on his tippy toes, kissed Anthony's forehead. Anthony blushed, ducking his head, and Ze laughed, hugging him tightly.

"Don't... Please don't leave, Anth. The city is so dangerous now, and I don't believe that you'll have to go to work on Monday, in light of your injury. ...How did this happen? Who... Who shot you?" Anthony grimaced but straightened his expression, lying through his teeth.

"Oh, just someone on the street. With all of the random violence happening, I wasn't surprised. ...Actually, Adam called the ambulance for me." At the mention of Adam's name, Ze's brow furrowed, even in the context that he had helped Anthony.

"Hmm. Still, please don't leave until your stitches have healed and the city is safer."

* * *

Tyler, sitting on Marcella couch, flinched as Marcel started swearing from the other room.

"You alright, Marce?"

_"I FORGOT TO TEXT EVAN."_

* * *

Evan, at the sound of his phone vibrating, paused Mario Kart and picked it up, seeing Marcel was texting him.

Dicc: SORRY HOLY SHIT

Dicc: I FORGOT TO TEXXT YOU

Dicc: BUT CRAIG MIGHT BE DEAD AND TYLER IS PISSING HIMSELF HOLY SFUCJ

Dicc: TGERES A HUGE TRAFFUCK JAM DOWN LIKE TEN BLOVKS FROM HERE AND THERS AN AMBULANCE IN IT

Evan flinched at the all capital texts and slowly texted back.

You: So Craig is

Dicc: maybe dead we dont know

Dicc: I was tryna lowkey comfort tyler but

Dicc: idk if it worked

You: Tell Tyler that I said hi

Dicc: will do 

You: Ttyl

Dicc: ttyl

Evan frowned at his phone and stood up, stretching, just needing his boring Sunday to end. He had a lot to say to Jonathan.

* * *

 

Jonathan slammed his hand down on the desk, baby blues blazing with fury.

"YOU'RE CONSIDERING 02 AND 03 FOR THE PROMOTION BUT NOT ME? I'VE WORKED MY ASS OFF FOR YOU, AND YOU TREAT ME LIKE THIS. I SHOULD BE 01, AND YOU KNOW IT!" Ryan stared at Jonathan, dead eyes showing throigh his Omega mask. 

"I chose them because 01 is a _killing_ position that focuses on assasinations. You are a theif and manipulator, too valuable to be put into a dangerous position like that, 05. 02 and 03 are both highly trained killers, which is why they were chosen." Jonathan rolled his eyes, turning tail and walking off briskly, blues narrowing.

* * *

Michelle Minx (02) sat in her office, sipping hot chocolate. The walls were lined with trophies of sorts; broken guns, disabled grenades, ammunition boxes, among other stolen or broken contraband. Each item was nailed to the wall and painted with a large purple 'M', just like the door of her office, branding it as belonging to her. There was a sharp knock, and a lanky man slipped into her office, sitting at the desk in a chair pulled up to the other side, opposite her.

"So, 02-"

"This isn't formal, call me Michelle, I insist."

"...So, Michelle. I presume you'll be getting the promotion." Michelle laughed, a high pitched cackle.

"Aha, perhaps, but you still have a good chance Cry." She pulled opened a drawer in her desk and retrieved a box of cigarettes.

"Smoke?" 

"Not today, no thank you. I've been trying to cut back." Michelle snorted and picked up a lighter from her desk, lighting a cigarette from the box and smoking it herself.

"You say that, but you still smoke weed." She spoke as she let out a puff of smoke, Cry grimacing.

"That... Isn't the same." Michelle laughed, another puff of smoke escaping her lips.

"Whatever you say~!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before anyone asks, no,I will not be using Cry's real name. I want to include him but, as said here: http://cryaotic.tumblr.com/post/53402245750/allow-me-a-moment-to-vent (specifically around the eighth paragraph) he prefers it not happening, so I won't be using his real name. He also states he dislikes being used in fanfictions, so I might keep his appearances to a minimum. Thanks!


	14. Omega Complex | Sunday Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a minichapter that will tie up a few loose ends. If you want to avoid spoilers, don't like torture, or are triggered by rape, I'd recomend not sticking around. :P
> 
> ALSO THERE SHOULD BE ANOTHER FIC GOING UP SOON WHERE I'LL PUT THE REST OF THE SPOILERS AND BACKSTORY!!! LOVEEEE!

Max had left Adam's house. His mind felt cool and concentrated. He had been pulled into an alleyway, knocked out, and now his dark eyes were taking in Bryce's form from across a desk.

"It is ironic that this happened, Max. You shoot your husband's toy, and yet... You've found yourself entangled in an affair."

"I don't need your empty pity. I'm aware of my hypocrisy." 

"Harsh words. But you are in no position to refuse, Mister Gonzalez. Who is it?" Max's arms struggled in their bonds, tied behind him, legs tied to the chair legs connected to the chair he was sitting in.

"Oh, that's a nice suit. Don't ruin it, please." Max's eyes flashed with anger. 

"Fuck you." Bryce laughed, standing up. "I know who it is. Its that... What do they call him, Ohmwrecker?" Max's face twisted and he spit in Bryce's direction. 

"Savage! Though, you know too much. I'm afraid you will be going on an... Extended vacation." Max struggled again, eyes cut with fear.

"Wh-Where?" 

"You'll find out soon enough."

* * *

Adam Montoya was furious. He had just been texted by 05, explaining that they had both been passed over for the spot of 01, a skilled assassin spot. He, being 04, was pissed. 

_I understand 05 getting skipped, but me? 00 should have no reason to dislike me! I've done nothing but good things! Sure, I'm in an affair, but he shouldn't care! My relationships don't fucking affect him..._

Adam growled to himself, before texting a certain Anthony.

You: Come over. Now.

Slut: but if Stevens find out...

Adam's lips twisted into a smile, noting he had texted back immediately.

You: What, find out that you need me to survive? You're ENTIRELY dependent on me, probably getting dressed right now.

Anthony, in his flat, bit his lip. He _was_ getting dressed. He depended on Adam for so many things. Adam withheld his paycheck sometimes, only giving it to him in return for sex, but Anthony was too afraid to tell either Steven, too afraid to ask for money.

Slut: I... I am...

You: Good. Come over now.

It was barely ten minutes before Adam heard a knock on his door. He opened it and a red faced Anthony shuffled inside. Adam shut and locked the door, smirking. 

"I see you're wearing the choker I bought you?" Adam turned to see Anthony sheepishly nod, eyes downcast. 

"Good." Adam stepped over, his fingers messing with the tag attached to the choker, emblazoned 'Pet'. Anthony's breath was sharp as Adam walked behind him, adjusting the choker to make it tighter, tears coming to Anthony's eyes as breathing gained difficulty. Adam reached into the back pocket of Anthony's indigo skinny jeans and retrieved the other's phone.

"Sit down." Anthony obediently sat, Adam sitting beside him. 

"Have you been texting anyone, dear?" Anthony shook his head 'no'.

"I pay for this phone, you know. I can take it away any time I'd like."

"I-I know, Adam." Anthony's voice cracked, and he looked down at his hands.

"Good." He scanned through the rest of the phone, checking for any hidden apps, other contacts, or pictures taken without permission. 

"Mm, you've been good." Adam took the choker off of Anthony and threw it aside. Anthony bit his lip again, eyes wide.

"A-Adam, I should go, but... I need the money... I..." Adam clicked his tongue.

"You know the rules." Tears welled up again in Anthony's eyes.

"A-Adam, I don't want-"

"But don't you need the money?" Anthony paused, frowning. Adam simply smirked as Anthony began removing his clothing piece by piece until he sat, on the couch, naked.

"Please... I don't want this..." Anthony pleaded, but Adam shook his head, removing his clothing as well, crawling on top of Anthony, not taking time to prepare him. Anthony felt the need to scream at the pain but was cut short by teeth marking his throat.

* * *

Max's eyes fluttered open and he found himself, hands cuffed behind him, naked, in a cold stone room, Bryce leaning over him, hands in his pockets.

"Welcome to the 'basement', Maxy!" Max opened his mouth to speak, but his tongue felt around at the ball of rubber latched into his mouth with a leather strap around his head and jaw, his sensory nerves coming back to life.

"Huh, cat got your tongue? Let me help you with that." Bryce unclasped the ballgag, but, before Max could utter a word, Bryce retrieved a metal cup from the floor, pouring a hot, goopy liquid into his mouth. Max's body was too numb to move, so he stayed there in horror, eyes wide. Once he was done pouring, Bryce spoke.

"That, my friend, was a mixture of rat poison, urine, blood, and vomit. Luckily for you, most rat poison has things in it that will make you vomit it back up so you don't die. Unluckily for you..." Bryce trailed off when, to Max's horror, he produced a needles with string attached to it. He began sewing Max's lips together as Max struggled to move, the pain akin, in his slightly numbed state, to hundreds of bee stings. Once done, Bryce tied it off and cut the end with a pair of scissors. He covered the stitches and holes with a long strip of black duct tape circling his head a few times. Once he was satisfied, he smiled, standing up and kicking Max in the stomach. Max's body started shaking and his nasal passage started burning, vomit and stomach acid leaking out of his nose while the rest he was forced to reswallow. 

"Enjoy your stay!" Bryce walked out, taking his things with him, and shutting the door to the stone room behind him.

* * *

Anthony was walking home with a fifth of his paycheck in his pockets, his body marked up. He had cried through all of it, Adam hitting him repeatedly because of such, but he couldn't stop. His whole body felt disgusting and sticky, and Adam had taken pictures of him, saying that if he tried to get a different job, Adam would send them to his employer. Anthony stared at his shoes, his heart hurting. He knew he couldn't tell either Steven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I guess it wasn't a spoiler that Adam is an abusive asshole, but it was a spoiler that Max is an idiot?


End file.
